


Delusion

by Venstar



Series: 2019 007 Fest Series [8]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Delusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 02:31:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19736557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venstar/pseuds/Venstar
Summary: For the MI6 Cafe 007 fest Angst Prompt Table. Delusion.





	Delusion

It came on suddenly. Feeling that someone was watching...waiting...watching...always watching. You know that feeling when you could swear to God you were being followed, the sound of extra footsteps that stopped when you stopped, a car that just ‘happened’ to be going the way you were going, the new tenant who is always leaving when you’re leaving. 

Q ran the last block to MI6. Literally ran, not just oh I’m late to work I need to kind of do a bit of a skippity hoppity bit of jogging to try and pretend I can make it on time. He nearly broke the door in his haste to enter the building and put security between him and the threat.

“Whoa there, little guy, what’s the hurry?” The burly security guard peered over Q’s shoulder.

“There’s a…”

“Someone following you?” The guard squinted down at him.

Q turned and looked over his shoulder. Pedestrians, cyclists, buses, cabs...people...lots of people passed by with nothing standing out.

“There’s a meeting with R&D I’m late for,” Q said, smoothing his hand through his hair. “That’s all.”

That’s all he said, that’s all, but it didn’t stop there. Oh no, that feeling. That FEELING persisted. Everyone was a suspect. That’s right. You, me, R, the agents. Someone was out to get him. He couldn’t trust his minions to bring him food or drink that wasn’t tainted. If it wasn’t made by him with items he brought from home in his Scrabble mug...well, it wasn’t getting eaten or drank. And oh, yes you can make a LOT of things in a Scrabble mug in the microwave. He may have grossed out a minion or two...or fifty billion, but that was a price he was willing to pay to maintain his safety. After one particular disaster, he turned and examined his mug while fifty pairs of eyes stared at him.

“Experiment.” He threw that mug in the trash and ordered a brand new one and tested it and decontaminated it at work. The back of his neck tingled, someone was watching him. His shoulders tensed and he had to remind himself that he was at MI6, of course, someone was watching him. 

“I didn’t know you were a germaphobe,” Bond said, watching Q run his mug through decontamination a third time. 

Q jumped. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough.”

“Then get stuffed.”

Bond laughed. “I would, but you’ve been acting a little weird lately. Weirder than usual. You alright?”

Q shrugged and strode swiftly away, shoving the door open. “Sure, why wouldn’t I be. What’s it to you?”

“Well, for starters,” Bond said as he squeezed through the open door after Q. “My safety and well being.” He started ticking off his other fingers. “The other agents' safety and well being. The Minions safety and well being.”

Q slammed his mug down. He grimaced. He just bought that...thankfully he ordered twenty others just to be sure. He had them all delivered to MI6, that way they could go through security and not to his home, where someone might be able to track him.

Bond snapped his fingers in front of his face. “Q!”

“What? I’m busy. Go away. I have people’s safety and well being to deal with.”

Bond sighed. “You know you can tell me right?”

Q snorted. “Tell you? Tell you what? There’s nothing to tell. I broke my mug, I ordered a new one and I was testing out the decontamination rig.” He set up his laptop at his workstation and turned it so Bond couldn’t see the screen. That didn’t stop the man from leaning forward until his chin was on it.

“Do you mind?” Q hissed.

Bond stared straight into Q’s eyes, not blinking. It was VERY uncomfortable and alarming at the same time. They were also very pretty.

“How long have you worked for MI6?”

Q shoved his own face forward and they were nearly nose to nose. “Long enough.”

“I mean before the Skyfall incident.”

“Long. Enough. Are you not listening? Are you suffering hearing loss in your old age.”

“Shush, puss. I know the signs. Every agent alive and worth his salt knows the signs.”

“Yes and there it is. You see that big one marked EXIT, learn it, know it, take it.” Q pointed at the doors leading out of Q-branch.

“You’re not crazy.”

Q sighed. “Obviously.”

“You’re just getting that feeling. That someone’s watching you.”

Q blinked.

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m sure they are. They’re probably the same people that watch me.”

“What?” Q didn’t understand “Someone IS watching me, you, us?”

“Yes and no.”

“Well, that’s reassuring.”

Bond’s lip turned slightly up on the left. His usual grin, if one were to call it that. “It’s the ghosts of the past that watch you.”

“Thank you, Charles Dickens.”

“The ones that got away. The ones you couldn’t save. The ones that you haven’t met yet.”

“And will they go away when the bell tolls three? Will there be turkey for all?”

Bond leaned away from Q’s laptop. “When you’re ready to talk. Come see me, not medical and definitely not psych. They think we’re delusional, but they’re the ones that don’t know what they’re talking about.” With that, Bond left Q-branch with a swish of the hips and minions swooning over the sight.

Q frowned and shook his head. “Ghosts.”


End file.
